


Emma Knightley: Sex Fiend

by anarchycox



Category: Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Happily Ever After, Humour, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Book: Carry On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Mr. Knightley really should not have let Emma discover porn. The sex is going to probably kill him, but he will die very happy.(I have been picturing the Mark Strong/Kate Beckinsale version of Emma while writing this)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pemberley_Press](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pemberley_Press/gifts).



It was a warm evening and the doors to the garden were wide open. Emma was pleased with how her little party was going. Everyone seemed satisfied and the gentlemen had taken their leave a hour ago. Augusta was a horrid woman, but she had suggested a second bottle of wine, and everyone was very relaxed.

Especially when Emma called for a third.

“Mr. Elton is a true gentleman, of course, you can just tell. I am sure, and no offense to Knightley, but he is a gentleman to his bones,” Augusta said loudly.

“Of course he is,” Emma agreed. “Now may I suggest some cards?”

“But he never stops being a gentleman,” Augusta moaned. “He comes to my bed but once a fortnight. And is so...well it can’t be like what you read about.”

“In books?” Emma said in shock. “There are books about...that?”

Mrs. Weston smiled at Emma. “Dearest, there are books about everything.”

“He is always in a rush in bed,” Jane hiccuped.

“Jane!” Emma looked around. She was pretty sure this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Her sister had sent her copious instructions on how to host a gathering as a wife instead of a daughter, and they had not included conversation taking a turn like this.

“Well quick can be enjoyable,” Mrs Weston pointed out.

“But not every time,” Jane countered.

“Have you told him?” Mrs Weston asked. “And you Mrs. Elton, have you talked to him about it, being less of a gentleman?”

“No of course not,” Mrs. Elton said. “You don’t talk about that sort of thing.”

“Then you are doomed to bad lovemaking,” Mrs. Weston said. She sipped some more of her wine. “Mr. Weston listens to my suggestions and everything is most satisfactory.” Mrs Weston smiled, “Especially when I provided him one of those very detailed books.”

“Once again, there are books about that?” Emma stared at them in shock. “You all have seen them?”

“I am sure I haven’t,” Augusta said haughtily. “Though there are stories and poems out there that are quite...expressive.”

“Well yes, some poets do go on,” Emma began.

“The books often have pictures,” Mrs. Weston added to tease her former charge a little. She was hoping that Emma might add in details of her own. Not that she especially cared from a prurient point, but she wanted to know Mr. Knightley was treating her Emma well. He was so much older and the way he often chided Emma before they were wed, she had some concerns about Emma’s needs not being met.

“Pictures!” Emma reached for her wine. “People draw...lovemaking?” Emma’s cheeks were flushed from wine and embarrassment. “Well, I suppose, I mean Michelangelo carved David. I have seen a few nude paintings. It must be like that.”

“Not exactly,” Mrs. Weston. “There is a more clear expression of...thrusting.”

Augusta let loose with her horrid laugh and even Jane giggled. There was a knock on the door and they all tried to compose themselves. “Yes?” Emma called.

Mr. Knightley opened the door. “There was a good bit of noise, I just wanted to check on you. Emma, are you well? You are flushed.”

“Yes!” she squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Yes, just enjoying my company, thank you.” Emma gave him a smile that he knew meant please go away. “Ladies,” he said with a small bow and disappeared.

“I suspect he is a gentleman in bed, Emma?” Mrs Weston asked.

“He might hear you!” Emma said. “You know he walks slowly in a house, in comparison to how he eats up the ground outside.”

“Does he eat you up?” Jane asked. All of them looked at her. “Frank loves to kiss me there. Honestly it gets a little exhausting at times.”

“A gentleman doesn’t do that,” Augusta said mournfully. “Mr. Elton finds it unpleasant.”

“But does he expect you to suck him off?” Mrs. Weston had had enough wine to be blunt. “Quid pro quo, ladies.”

Augusta made a face. “Ugh.”

“I don’t mind,” Jane offered. “Every once in awhile.”

“Emma?” Mrs. Weston pressed. Come on girl, let me know if you are satisfied. She would have Mr. Weston give Mr. Knightley quite a talking to, if he was poor in bed to Emma.

Emma bit her lip. She couldn’t figure out whether she was supposed to say something good or ill about Mr. Knightley. Augusta and Jane seemed to have negative things to say and her dear Mrs Weston positive. “I don’t mind doing that, and I think we do things in equal measure,” she said slowly. “But if I may be...a little indelicate?” She watched them all lean forward. “Isn’t it a little frustrating when you can’t wrap your hand around...it? I understand my hand is smaller than his and he showed me what he likes, but my thumb and longest finger barely touch, as well you understand.”

“I’m sorry?” Augusta said.

“Well...it is a rather thick appendage, isn’t it?” Emma looked at them all. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“That is not a problem I have,” Augusta said. “His is rather...unremarkable.”

“Are we discussing this?” Jane asked. “Because Frank is long but skinny.”

“Mr. Weston is I am thinking average, maybe a little above,” Mrs Weston said thoughtfully.

“I have no idea what is average,” Emma admitted.

Mrs Weston has a brilliant idea. “Emma your box of ribbons, fetch it.”

Emma went to the door and asked a servant to collect it, and it was returned to them in a moment. She handed it to Mrs. Weston who started pulling out pieces at the table. “Now then use ribbons to best approximate, length and width when it is fully hard. Let’s see what we all have.”

“Mrs. Weston!” Emma was scandalized.

“Oh pish tosh, like men don’t talk about bosoms and whatnot.” Mrs. Weston began laying out her ribbon and the other women quickly began to giggle and work. Emma slowly gathered a few pieces, and was quite embarrassed but other the other hand, she really wanted her Mr. Knightley to fare best against Mr. Elton and Mr. Churchill. The women all drank a little bit more and attended to their task and then all looked around the table.

Augusta sighed. “Well easy to see who has the short end of the stick,” she said pointing to her own ribbons. All the women giggled a bit and Emma felt quite smug about that. Mr. Churchill was the longest but Mr. Knightley was much thicker and not that much shorter. Mr. Weston fell perfectly in the middle of all the sizes.

“Doesn’t it hurt, Emma?” Jane asked. “I cannot imagine so in me.”

“I suppose it felt very odd at first,” Emma agreed. “But he is very solicitous about exciting me first. He likes touching me a great deal and I certainly have no objections to that. There is perhaps a bit of discomfort but only a little and the pleasure quickly outweighs the difficulties. Especially when…” Emma poked at her ribbons a little.

“When?” Jane asked.

“Well it feels rather good when we are sitting up with me in his lap. That’s my favourite way,” Emma whispered.

“Sitting up? You in his lap? It certainly cannot be done like that,” Augusta proclaimed.

“It most certainly can,” Emma said. “And it is quite pleasurable.”

“Well, I never. The man is supposed to be on top.”

Jane and Mrs. Weston both roll their eyes. Augusta was clearly ready to get into one of her moods when there was a knock at the door again. The gentlemen all walked in.

Mr. Knightley smiles. “The weather is starting to turn and I do believe our company should head out. Have you been well occupied?” He saw the ribbons out and went to see and Emma quickly cleared them away.

“Very well occupied,” Mrs. Weston agreed. “Emma, this was a lovely and instructive evening.”

All the women giggled and blushed and their husbands were confused. They noticed the bottles on the table and realized their wives were a bit in their cups. Mr. Knightley went and cupped Emma’s neck where she sat and smiled when she leaned into the touch for a moment before standing.

They saw their guests off and Mr. Knightley took Emma up to bed. He poured her a glass of water. “Drink this, it will help your head hurt less in the morning.” He dismissed the servants for the evening, wanting to attend to Emma himself. “Why did you indulge so?”

“It was Mrs. Elton’s idea,” Emma said. She felt nice and loose but not too foggy. She sipped the water her wonderful husband had given her. “And it helped facilitate an interesting conversation!”

Emma seemed happy and pleased, which made him very happy in turn. “Oh? We spoke mostly about the construction on the vicarage, the new steeple they are raising.” Mr. Knightley paused. “Emma why do you giggle so?”

“It is my understanding that that is a steeple not raised often, and is certainly not very...tall,” Emma giggled and blushed and finished the water.

“It is of an appropriate size for a church in our -” Knightley was cut off by Emma’s giggles turning to outright laughter. He paused. “Emma are you speaking in innuendo?”

Emma was so busy laughing she could not properly answer and had to nod.

Mr. Knightley was in utter astonishment. “What in heaven’s name did you ladies get up to?”

Emma composed herself after a moment. “Did you know there are books that describe and even have illustrations of the activities of the marriage bed?” She watched his face and how he cannot meet her gaze. “You did! Have you seen one?”

“Most men have, Emma,” he replied a little stiffly. “And is this really appropriate conversation?

“You have said nothing is inappropriate conversation in our bedchamber,” she countered. “What are they like, those books? Are they very detailed. How well drawn are the illustrations? I cannot imagine they have the best artists. How do you even hire one for that sort of job? You can hardly advertise in the paper. Or maybe you can, in the city. Can you?”

“What are the chances of you letting this conversation topic die a swift death?”

“Well I suppose you could distract me, but whatever would be interesting enough to distract me from this? Do they draw pretty women in those books? Am I prettier than what they write about?”

“Emma, the looks of the woman matter less than the -” Knightley stopped talking.

“Than the what?” Emma looked at him. “Mrs. Weston suggested that men like bosoms.” Emma looked down at herself. “I’m not terribly large in that area.”

“Your breasts are perfect,” Knightley said swiftly, realizing this was spiraling out of control. “The illustrations in those sorts of books are meant to titillate, they are caricature, exaggerated just like the stories."

“What are the stories like?” Emma asked eagerly.

“Can we go back to distracting you?” Knight suggested. He moved closer and cupped her face. “May I distract you Emma?”

“Yes but we already know what you look like. What do the men look like in these books? Are they as big as you? Did you know you are well acquitted?”

“Thank you?” Knightley was not sure if that was the proper response.

“You are welcome, though I suppose we should be thanking the good lord about that. I shall add it to my prayers this Sunday, thank you, dear lord, for making my husband have the best...appendage of all the husbands of my friends.”

“Right,” Knightley pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I get you an example to peruse, will you one, tell no one, and two, after this evening drop the topic?”

Emma went on tiptoes to kiss him. “I swear.”

“I will return directly.”

While he was gone, Emma attended to her needs swiftly and removed her dress. She sat at her table and began to remove the pins from her hair.

“Now now, that is my job,” Knightley said from the doorway. Emma looked at him in the mirror and saw the small book in his hand.

“You had one? In my father’s house? How much do you look at it?” Emma felt oddly offended.

Knightley went and sat on the bed. He took his boots off and soon was down to just his breeches. “It was in that chest in the room I have claimed as my office. I haven’t looked at it in a great deal of time, why would I when I had you? Come here, Emma. Allow me the privilege of attending to your hair, while you glance at the pages.” He held out a hand to her.

Emma stood from her bench and went to him. She turned her back. “Could you attend to the layers first?” She twisted her head to smile down at him.

“I am ever my lady’s humble servant.” Knightley undid the petticoats and then her stays, leaving her in her chemise. He tossed the clothes to a chair and tugged her onto the bed. Emma settled in between his legs, her back facing him and she opened the book. Knightley smiled at her gasp of shock at the illustration found on page two. He kissed her nape and then pulled the first pin from her hair. Each pin he pulled out meant another kiss on her neck, a gentle bit to her ear, a nuzzle along her jaw. Knightley adored his wife’s neck.

“My goodness, this is very poorly written,” Emma said disappointed. “A chambermaid, serving dinner? That makes no sense.”

Knightley had to rest his forehead against her back, his perfect Emma. “I think you’ll find that she is supposed to be dinner.”

“You read a story about cannibalism to arouse yourself?” Emma turned her head, ready to give him a stern talking to, because that was just appalling. “Really, Mr. Knightley.”

Knightley reached around her and turned the page to show her the illustration. Emma felt her mouth hang open. “3 gentlemen?” She looked at him. “3? But that’s…”

“Keep reading,” he suggested quietly. He scooped her fallen hair over one of her shoulders and kissed her neck more and his hands tugged her into his lap. She held the book up closer to her face to read in the shadows and Knightley slide an arm under so that he could cup one of her breasts.

“The chambermaid does seem to have rather absurd breasts,” Emma said, the last word a sigh as he touched the sensitive skin through her chemise.

“I told you, yours are perfect.” He bit her ear and sucked a little, let his thumb slide over her nipple.

“I must say she is very coordinated.” Emma tilted her head a little to give him more room.

“Coordinated?” Knightley laughed a bit. “That is your takeaway from the story, that she is coordinated?”

“Well I have enough difficulties ‘stroking your engorged member with hunger in my eyes’ as it is, and she is stroking two men and ‘licking the soft member of the oldest gentleman into hardness that would fill her throat and choke to the point of tears.’ Why would anyone want to do that? Why would you want to hurt?”

“Some people enjoy a bit of pain in the bedchamber, Emma,” Knightley explained.

“You do not,” she said firmly. She looked down at the book. “Or do you?”

“No, Emma, dearest, I do not.”

“But you have this book.”

“It is a collection of stories, the one you are skimming is not my favourite.” She stiffened in her arms and he realized that was the worst thing to have said. “No, I will not tell you my favourite, allow your husband some secrets.” He plucked the book from her hands and put it on the nightstand. He would burn it in the morning.

“I was reading that,” Emma protested. She tried to reach around him and Knightley tossed her down onto the bed and held her arms above her head.

“I think that was enough reading.”

“I will sneak the book away and read the whole thing. Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Fairfax too, all to guess your favourite story. We will have tea and read your filth. And spend hours analyzing based on your preferences in our bed, which might be your ideal story in there.”

“Nonsensical girl,” he whispered and kissed her deeply. She responded as she always did and as he broke the kiss he sucked on her lower lip. He moved his head to her ear. “Would you like me to tell you?”

“Please,” Emma said. She arched up a little and could feel him thick and heavy inside his breeches. He was also so hot, it felt marvelous against her skin.

Knightley sat up and kept her thighs pinned down, making sure that most of his weight was on his own calves. He looked down at his gorgeous wife. “No words, no hastily and cheaply drawn images, no painting in the word can match your beauty and the way you arouse me.”

“The story must be very filthy indeed, if you flatter so,” Emma teased as she looked up at him. She smiled fondly. “Knightley, I find you a most agreeable man. Your eyes captivate me, and you are just, you inflame me.” Emma reached up and ran a hand over his firm stomach and dropped it down to where his breeches were being pushed out. She flicked open two buttons and then two more.

Knightley cupped her breasts through the thin fabric and then a simple tug exposed her pale skin and pebbled nipples. “It is a story with just one man and one woman.”

Emma faked a yawn. “How quaint,” she replied and opened a few more buttons. She pushed the fabric out of her way and gazed at his length. “You are more well endowed than even the illustrations.”

“You flatter,” he said and pinched a nipple gently. He moaned when she tugged on his foreskin in retaliation. “They are a couple in love, and enjoy making love out of doors.”

“We did that on our honeymoon,” she said. “It was lovely. We should do that again.”

“We should,” he agreed. He licked his thumb and rubbed her nipple and enjoyed how she squirmed underneath him. “But it isn’t that they found a secluded woods like we did, but rather in alleys, when visiting friends they excuse themselves and make love against the wall in just the next room where anyone could catch them, hear them.” He leaned down and sucked at the wet nipple, to hear her make noise. He then rolled so she was now on top.

Emma sat up like he had been doing. Her chemise hung on her elbows and her hair was wild, lips red from being bitten. Knightley grew fully hard.

“They would have to be very quiet,” Emma said seriously. “And you sir, are not very quiet.” She wrapped her hand mostly around him and tugged like he had taught her. He groaned a deep and rumbly thing. “See?”

“And you don’t make the most delicious noises, dear one?” Knightley pressed her chemise into her folds and it grew wet. He rubbed in circles, pressed the fabric against her, and she made these little mewling noises that he would never get tired off. He moved his finger up a bit and she cursed when the fabric touched her sensitive clit. “Bugger,” she whispered.

Knightley didn’t comment on that. “It is about the risk, that being so hungry for a person that you cannot wait to claim them. That you are so desirous of them, to be separated by clothes for even another instant would leave your soul bereft.”

Emma added her other hand to touching him to stroking the length. She looked at his face and realized he wasn’t watching her hands, but watching her. “But what if they get caught?”

“That only adds to the pleasure, the what if, the danger,” he moaned when she pressed her thumb to the slit. “And at the end of the story, they hear the door close and realize that they were caught and have to wonder by whom.” His breath was growing thick and he was moving his hips to Emma’s touch. He pushed himself up to sitting back against the headboard.

Emma moved close, her chemise now rucked well up on her hips and she settled on his lap, his erection against her bare skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and was up just enough to look down at him. “Would you like me to interrupt your cards with your friends one night, say that I need you? Pull you into the room next door and sink to my knees? Would you like me to lick you hard?”

Knightley bit her neck in response. “Emma,” he whispered. He raked his nails gently but firmly down her ass and then pushed two fingers into her wetness. It was a bit awkward and his hand brushed himself enough to drive him mad but soon she was squirming on his lap and panting.

“I would you know, dear husband. If you wanted it, we could try.” Emma tapped his shoulder and he pulled his fingers out. Emma adjusted her angle and Knightley guided himself into her.

He paused just barely in her, letting her adjust before helping her sink all the way down. They had done this very regularly since their wedding, and every time it felt indescribingly good. He kept his hands on her hips and rocked her at a pace that would entice but also drive them mad.

“Imagine, Mr. Churchill overhearing us, his realization that you are far superior to him, not just in manner and care, but also in lovemaking.”

“Perhaps this is the one area that he shows care,” Knightley offered, though he wondered if this was the right time to be talking of a man who used to make him so very jealous.

Emma leaned into his ear. “Trust me, you are far superior in this respect.” She moved up a little more and then pushed down. “Oh that feels good.”

Knightley stroked her breast as she rocked in his lap. “Imagine at a salon. Someone is playing music and we have seats that are sadly blocked just a little by a column or a plant. And you reached your hand into my breeches, stroked me.”

Emma’s cheeks are red from their activity and his words. “I would tease you so, not allow you to spend. Just play with you but never too much.” She began to move a little quicker in his lap.

“During the social time after you would excuse yourself for the woman’s lounge and when you emerged, I would pull you into a dark corner. Not even a room, just a corner and demand you finish what you had begun.” He moved his hand to stroke her clit, knowing how she adored the dual stimulation.

Emma couldn’t think as well. “Can you...can you make love standing up?”

“You can, we shall have to try it soon.”

“Yes please,” she agreed. She was almost breathless. “Knightley, please,” she begged. Her movements in his lap weren’t smooth but desperate. “Please, my love.”

Knightley pressed his finger firmly against her, making tight and hard circles as he thrust up into her. She began to spasm around him, her body clutching him tight as she cried out. He pulled his finger away and moved her body up down, hands hard on her hips until the pressure built low in his spine and he pulled out and spilled on her chemise. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back and kissed her. He lay her down and pulled the chemise off and removed his breeches. He helped her under the blankets and then pulled her close.

“I suppose I see the point of...stimulating literature, but you, sir, are more than enough stimulation for me,” Emma said sleepily.

“I thank you for the compliment. We are very well suited in the bedchamber.” He kissed her head. “I do trust that is the end of your curiosity on this topic?”

“Of course, husband, you know once I know an answer I am content.” She smiled at him that sweet smile that had brought him endless trouble and endless joy. They talked of the evening in soft voices and eventually fell asleep.

It was a rare morning where Mr. Knightley was still abed after his wife awoke. He saw to his needs and then remembered the book.

Which was no longer on his nightstand.

He dressed quickly and hurried down to the breakfast room. “Mrs. Knightley, I do believe you took something that doesn’t belong to you. Might I implore you to return the object under discussion?”

Emma looked up from her tea. “And what object is that, Mr. Knightley.” Her smile was a challenging one, daring him to say it in front of the servants.

“Just a book, dear wife,” he said. He sat down at the other end of the table. “But if you have...need of it, who am I to argue with your educating yourself in customs of the world.” Emma gave him a sharp look and he returned with a bland one. “The fourth chapter in there, could be very...informative. It is all about the use of rope and proper knots to contain different objects.”

Emma paled and then flushed. “Rope?” she squeaked.

“Rope,” Mr. Knightley agreed. He ate some toast and he could see Emma struggling on whether to finish breaking her fast or go to wherever she had hidden the book. He smiled as she ate very quickly and then asked to be excused. “Of course my dear, I am sure you have a busy day that must be attended to.” He opened his paper and ignored her.

“Yes, very busy.” Emma gave a curtsy and was gone.

Knightley was finishing his morning when a footman came to him. “Sir, begging your pardon, but Mrs. Knightley was asking where she might find some rope? It was for an art project she said.”

Knightley put the paper down and stood. “Do not trouble yourself, I will assist Mrs. Knightley.”

“Of course sir, very good sir. I believe she was headed to the stable. And all the servants are all occupied elsewhere,” the footman said in a neutral voice.

“Thank you, Matthews,” Knightley said. He walked calmly out of the house and around the corner to the stables. He saw Emma bent over and searching through a storage chest. “Allow me to help you my dear,” he said.

“You are too gracious to me, Mr. Knightley,” Emma said.

“I promise I won’t be gracious very shortly.”

“Excellent,” Emma said and held up a length of rope.

Knightley took it and pulled her into one of the stalls. He never did get the book back, assumed Emma had it hidden somewhere for herself. But Emma was a good friend and passed knowledge along. The next time an extra bottle of wine was indulged, Jane had a much better report of Mr Churchill’s bedroom manner, and Emma asked for advice on the best way to deal with rope marks. Augusta did not return to the ‘teas’ ever again after that.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma stepped out into the night air and smiled. The garden looked perfect under the stars and moon. Huge bowls of fire lit the walkways and servants wandered with drinks. There was food set up inside but everyone was out of doors, enjoying the the height of summer. A band was playing soothing music and later there would be dancing.

Emma looked at the thin dresses on the women and the more casual dress on the men. And the masks. It had been a brilliant stroke, she thought to demand everyone wear a mask for her party, it lent an extra air of mystery to the evening.

She moved through the crowd, at least 40 were in attendance and more were destined to arrive. She touched the pale blue and silver that wrapped around her eyes and easily found Jane in the crowd. “You look lovely tonight, Mrs. Churchill,” she said.

“My dearest is of course perfection, even hidden by just a plain adornment,” Frank effused. Jane blushed under her simple grey mask.

“Tell me, Mr. Churchill, have you learned to stay more in time with your wife?”

“I am sorry?” Frank was a bit off foot with that question.

“I am given to understand that when you...dance you are often just a little ahead of your wife, and that would never do.”

Jane gave Emma a look and Emma continued to smile politely. “I assure you, Mrs. Knightley, I have no complaints about my husband’s dancing.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Emma said. “If you will excuse. There will be plenty of opportunity for dancing later tonight.” She bit her lip at the way Jane blushed and Frank just looked puzzled. She was becoming quite adept at innuendo.

Emma wandered through the crowd a glass of champagne in her hand and stopped happily beside her sister. “Are you impressed?” she asked.

Isabella kissed Emma’s cheek. “Verily. This is a gorgeous party, Emma. You should be very proud. And the masks were a droll touch.”

John huffed a little. “A lot of fuss and silliness isn’t it?”

“Sometimes a little fuss is worth it,” Emma countered. “And the crops have grown excellently so far this year.”

 “And you care about farming now?” John teased.

“I care about my husband, and he greatly cares.”

“And where is my brother?” John asked. “I caught a glimpse of him and then he disappeared and I do believe you two have to open the dancing shortly.”

“We do at that,” Emma agreed. “Pray excuse me that I might find him.”

Emma moved around the gardens and tried to find Mr. Knightley but he was being most bothersome in not appearing. The musicians were readying for the opening dance. There was a gentle touch to her elbow and she saw the most perfect eyes staring at her through a dark blue mask with silver threads. Her favourite eyes.

“Ma’am, pray forgive me, but you seem to be looking for someone. May I be of assistance?” He gave her a very polite bow.

Emma gave a small curtsy and smiled. “I fear I have lost my husband and I am expected to dance.” 

“Well, in the absence of your most fiendish husband, may I request the first dance?”

“Fiendish? Hardly, perhaps forgetful,” Emma said just to enjoy the hint of exasperation in his eyes.

“Indeed fiendish to leave the side of such a perfect creature as you, for even a moment,” he replied and held out his hand.

“Well, it is rather unfortunate, but hardly fiendish.” She listened and realized she was needed now. “But I am in desperate need of a dance partner and gratefully accept your offer.”

He nodded and lead her to the centre of the garden where a dance floor had been laid out. “And what dance are we opening with tonight?”

“A waltz,” she answered.

“Bold,” was his only comment.

“My dear husband does not mind a hint of boldness when the situation allows,” she said. She moved into his arms perfectly. “Do you not enjoy boldness?”

“On the contrary, I find boldness very...stimulating.” He moved her around the makeshift floor and their eyes never gazed off of each other.

 “And you sir, is your wife with you tonight?” Emma asked politely, enjoying this game immensely. It was even better than it had sounded when they talked it out.

 “She is,” he replied. “A good woman, though a bit too involved in gossip and putting her nose in the business of others.”

Oh he was paying for that later. “She sounds horrible.”

“No more horrible, than your husband is fiendish. But if I may have some boldness of my own. You fit in my arms, more perfectly than she ever has.” “And you sir, the way you gaze at me, while impudent, shows more desire than my husband could dream of.” They circled around the dance floor. “You intrigue me. What is your name?”

“Names are not for nights such as these. Let the masks do their jobs and allows us secrecy and perhaps a forbidden touch or two.” His hand stroked the middle of her back and just a little lower than was deemed proper. Emma bit her lip.

“Just one forbidden touch?” she whispered.

“We shall have to see what the night allows,” he replied and his voice was low and deep, the way he only talked in the bedchamber. It made her shiver that he used that tone only a few metres away from other people. The song ended and he stepped away. Emma almost reached for him, but remembered to curtsy instead. “I thank you, ma’am for the dance.”

“You honour me sir,” she replied. “Perhaps you will ask me to dance again tonight?” 

“Perhaps,” he agreed and moved into the crowd.

Emma danced with John and then Mr. Churchill and decided to see if she could find her gentleman again. She wandered the grounds sure she had seen him move to edge of the area, where the fires stopped and shadows were deep.

“You leave your guests easily,” he called from her left.

Emma saw him leaning against a tree and went closer. It was easy to still see the revelers but they were well away and in the dark. “They are well occupied with fine music and ever flowing drinks.”

“A sound strategy for a party,” he said. “You could be seen though, what if someone come looking for you? Say your husband?”

“What if your wife looks for you?” she countered. “We both risk much right now.”

“A little risk is worth it, if the reward is a stolen moment with your beauty.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “You are truly magnificent.” He brushed his thumb over her lips and she licked it. “And bold again.”

“Sir, we do not have the time for timidity. As you said, people could look for us at any moment.”

“They could indeed,” he said. He moved a little, not quite all the way around the tree but a little more to the side, a little more into the dark. He pulled her close. “A shout from you and they would come running.”

“I will be careful to be quiet then,” she said. “What would you have of this stolen moment with me, mysterious stranger?” Emma sank her fingers into his hair below where the mask was tied. She loved the feel of it.

“A stolen kiss,” he suggested. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as he pressed his lips against hers. He tasted sweet, clearly having been enjoying the strawberries they had on hand. Emma opened her mouth and his tongue traced her lips before pressing inside for a deeper kiss. He broke away sucking on her lower lip for a moment before letting go. “Thank was most generous of you,” he whispered.

“You can have more,” Emma offered. She glanced to the party but no one had wandered their way. “Take more, good sir.”

He kissed her again and his hands slid down to the small of her back and lower yet, cupping her and lifting her against him. She could already feel him swelling in his breeches. “A few kisses are enough to arouse you?”

“When I have a woman such as you? A glance is enough to inflame me,” he swore. “Let me take the mask off of you so I can properly see you.”

“No,” she said. “We must not reveal our faces.”

“I know you are the lady of the house,” he said. “I have seen you walking in town. Seen how fresh and innocent you look, even wed for months now, and oh how I longed for you.”

Emma could not believe how this was making her feel. The game of it, the threat of being caught, she was already growing wet and he had barely touched her. “How badly do you want me sir? Enough to risk everything, to take me here and now?”

“Yes,” he growled and kissed her firmly but not nudging a single pin out of her hair. He moved his lips to her neck peppering firm kisses, but never biting or sucking like how he longed to. He would never send her back to her party looking completely debauched. He moved his head away and could just make out her swollen lips and dazed eyes. She would returned looking only mildly debauched. And it was not an uncommon thing at garden parties such as these.

Emma moaned when he cupped her breasts. Even through all the layers she could feel the heat of his hands. The stays had pushed her bosom up so that he ran his hands over the exposed skin and dipped a finger into the cleavage and managed to brush a nipple. “Please,” she whispered.

“Emma?” was called from the party.

They both froze when the voice rang out again. They only breathed when the calls ceased.

“We can stop,” Knightley promised her.

“Husband, my body is aching. I think that if we stop now, you will find yourself sleeping in a guest room for the foreseeable future.”

“A dire threat indeed.” He took off his jacket and wrapped it around Emma before turning them so that she was the one against the tree. “The bark would tear your dress,” he whispered. “And I cannot return you to the party so disheveled. What would your husband say?” 

“A great deal to be sure,” Emma replied. She looked at him. “So, good sir, what happens next?” Emma expected a few more kisses and a couple more touches. As much as she teased about wanting more, she knew it wouldn’t happen. 

Only to her shock he undid his breeches and pulled his member out. “Sir,” she said in shock. He was already half hard and Emma watched as he stroked himself to full hardness. “Gracious, that is....do you intend to fit that in me, sir?”

“I do,” he said and he moved close.

“I suppose I should lay down on the ground?” she asked. “Or we sit you against the tree?” Emma squeaked when he lifted her skirts. “Sir, what are you on about?”

“Touching you,” he replied and his hands stroked up her thighs and encouraged her to spread her legs a little bit more.

Emma shivered as her skirts went higher, a mix of arousal, chill from the night air, embarrassment at becoming so exposed not so very far from people. It was a delicious tangle of feeling. It narrowed though in focus when his fingers touched the hair between her legs. “Please,” she whispered and spread her legs even further.

He moved as close as he could that would still allow his hand to explore and he dipped a finger into her folds. He was surprised at how wet she was. He knew that she had planned this, wanted this for him, having decided to give him a real life experience to rival that of the story he professed was his favourite. He had been prepared to stop, sure that she was only doing this to please him, but feeling her softness, how much she was clearly enjoying this? He was lost.

“You astonish me.”

“I rather hope in this moment I arouse you,” she said.

“You most certainly do ma’am,” he agreed and pushed his finger deep inside her.

Emma bit her lip to not cry out and attract attention. It was so hard. She was never too loud she thought in their bedchamber but they both liked to express how much they enjoyed and action and this need for silence was maddening. And arousing.

She reached out and tried to stroke him but how close he was keeping them made it more difficult. Emma pouted a little. “I want to feel you.”

“You will soon enough.” He promised and pushed a second finger in. He moved his fingers back and forth, relishing how she arched into his touch. He slid his fingers out and up a bit to carefully stroke her most sensitive spot. “You need to stay quiet.”

She was gasping, “then stop being so good at this. Lay me down and take me sir,” she begged.

“I believe I once mentioned standing up was an option.” He moved close and picked up Emma a bit and wrapped her legs around him. She wasn’t especially tall and it was a little awkward, but also magnificent. She was trusting him to keep her safe, to keep her happy. He kissed her gently and holding his cock helped her sink onto his length.

“Oh it is like sitting up love making but not at all, at the same time,” she said.

“Quiet, you cannot be found engaged in such actions with a man not your husband,” he reminded her. “You musn’t be caught.” His hands were on her bare arse and her skirts pooled around them. He loved the look of her stockinged legs against him. They would have to play with that more. He moved his hips back a little and then pushed forward.

Emma moaned just a little, as quietly as she could, but it felt so good. It was just on the edge of pain. Usually Knightley spent more time prepping her, but they did not have the luxury of time at this moment. Now was about passion and fantasy.

He rocked against her and knew he’d be exhausted later from holding her up, from the adrenaline of all this, but he also knew it would be worth it. Was worth it. He pushed into Emma as deeply as he could go and stayed silent no matter how much he wanted to groan at the heat and wet and tightness encasing him.

“You enchantress,” he whispered against her skin. His hands dug into her arse and the pace was hard and fast and all Emma could do was hang on. He came first, overcome by his dream fantasy in his arms, only barely pulling out to spill on the ground. Emma was shivering, aching, and was terrified that she’d have to go back to the party with this hollow feeling inside her.

He pushed her against the tree and sank to his knees, managing to just avoid kneeling in the wet spot he had made on the ground. He tossed one of Emma’s legs over his shoulder and pushed two fingers in her and began to lick above where his fingers pressed in and mouth. He licked and pressed and felt her quivering around him. She was so close and they were really running out of time. He circled with his tongue moving fast and felt her body begin to clench. He pressed his tongue firmly against her and his fingers in as far as they would go.

Emma banged her head against the tree as the orgasm rolled over her and made her knees weak. She panted and had to cover her mouth to not make too loud a sound.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of her and licked them clean. He stood and quickly did up his breeches and settled Emma’s skirts around her. “Emma, darling?” he asked.

Emma smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Knightley,” she said. “That was…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

“Emma? What was it?” he asked, worried maybe that she was upset. 

“That was divine.” She blinked at him. “I can see why that was your favourite in the book. Much more fun that the rope, and that was quite good fun.”

“We need to return to our guests,” he reminded her.

“Must we? I am sure they are fine,” she said.

“We must,” he said firmly. He took his jacket from her and finished setting his clothes to rights. They walked back to the party separating so as to approach from different angles.

Emma felt loose and languid like she had had two extra glasses of champagne. And honestly champagne sounded like a lovely idea.

“Emma there you are,” her sister called out. “I have been looking for you everywhere.”

“Oh?” Emma asked.

“Are you alright, you look a little flush?”

“Quite alright, sister,” Emma promised. “It is just the light from the fire.”

“Of course it is,” her sister agreed and plucked a few leaves from her hair. “Now you need to attend to your guests.” 

Emma nodded and moved about the party. She could feel Knightley’s eyes on her and didn’t need to look to know that the gaze was loving.

Eventually they met on the dance floor again and on one turn she whispered to him, “I am still wet sir, what shall you do about it?”

He stumbled just a little, but his gaze was molten hot through his mask. “I do believe it is time we encourage our guests to head home, isn’t it dearest?”

“I quite agree,” she replied.

It was hours though before the last people left, and they collapsed into bed exhausted. In the morning Knightley very much made it up to her though.

 


	3. Chapter 3

For a man who regularly involved himself in the farming of his land, ever since they had wed and shared a bed, Mr. Knightley had become a very sound sleeper. Sound enough that Emma found she could poke at him and it would take a while to rouse him.

It the room was shadowed from the morning sun, and the servants told to stay away, he refused to let go or wake up. And Emma rather enjoyed being in his arms. He had been so accustomed to sleeping along that the first few months he had hated Emma in his space but over time he had drawn her closer or would not let go after they made love and Emma found herself clung too and wrapped tight in his embrace.

This had lead to a most interesting discovery. It wasn't quite every morning, but definitely ones where they had not engaged in relations the night before, but Emma had noticed that Knightley grew hard in his sleep. She would wake to it pressed against her bottom or hip. She had begun to wiggle back against Knightley to see what would happen and she decided there was a great deal to recommend early morning slow and languid sex.

She admitted that some mornings it was a game for her, to see how much she could touch and wiggle before he woke up and made love to her. There were some mornings that any little movement would wake him up, and there was this morning where it seemed even the return of Jesus Christ would not awaken him. He had been busy the last few days with the harvest and had fallen asleep after a late meal and had not woken up once. Emma got up and opened the curtains just the tiniest bit. She went out into the hall and flagged down a servant. "Mr. Knightley is incredibly tired, and we will be abed for most of the morning. We do not wish to be disturbed for any reason," she whispered. The maid scurried away to relay the news.

Emma went back to the bed and paused. The light was hitting Mr. Knightley and she just looked. She found him mightily attractive and he was in very good shape for his years, certainly much better than many men of their acquaintance. She went and sat on the bed and put her hand on his bare chest. He was so warm and his skin soft. He chest hair was sparse but she enjoyed the feel of it under her fingers. Emma had spent hours touching it. Emma left her hand on his heart, watched it rise and fall with his even breaths. He was still so asleep, it was lovely to watch and she should leave him alone.

But Emma was not very good about respecting should haves.

She moved her hand up and down his chest and decided to be bold and grazed a nipple. He moved a little in his sleep and Emma flopped down beside him and pretended to be asleep. When he didn't pull her close or say anything she opened one eye. Knightley was definitely still asleep but something had altered and the bedding around his lap was now tented a bit. Emma bit her lip and slowly pulled at the sheet until her husband was lying there completely exposed. She found his habit of sleeping nude when exhausted was something that she had no objections to.

Emma inched just a little closer on the bed, leaving a little space between them. She lay her hand back on his skin but this time lower below his belly button. There was just a little softness there, and she rubbed small circles, curious if that would be what woke him up. He shifted but his breathing stayed the same. Emma bit her lip and dropped her hand even lower, to the course hair by his member. She dragged her fingers through it, knowing how much he enjoyed that when awake. He was fully hard now, and she bumped the back of her hand against him. 

Emma stilled, sure that would wake him up, but all it did was make him move his hips, like he was straining for touch. Emma wrapped her hand as best she could around him and squeezed. He moaned in his sleep. Emma worried that she was going to far, that maybe this was something that he would like or want her to do.

The problem now though, was that she had become a bit aroused. Emma debated properly waking him up, but he still had shadows under his eyes. Emma moved a little away on the bed and making sure that he was still firmly asleep, began to hitch up her nightgown. She raised a leg, bending the knee, and the fabric pooled at her hips. She ran her hands up and down her thighs. She moved one up to cup a breast as the other lightly skimmed over her folds. 

Emma let out a soft gasp and turned her head to Knightley and saw that he had rolled on his side towards her. "Knightley," she whispered almost no sound passing her lips. She saw him give a small smile. "You faker!" she cried out. 

Knightley opened sleepy eyes and gazed at his wife. "Only a little," he promised. "I thought I was having a splendid and naughty dream. Of my wife's hand touching me, cherishing me. And then the lack of the touch awoke me." He looked at where her one hand was. "Pray, continue."

Emma stared at him in shock. "You want me to...myself...while you watch?"

"Why not?" Knightley asked. "You look beautiful. And wasn't there such a scenario in Chapter 8 of that book?"

Emma blushed in the morning light. "Perhaps, I only barely skimmed the book, of course."

"Of course," Knightley agreed. He pulled Emma's hand away and kissed her fingers, sucking them into his mouth. Emma moaned, she had very sensitive hands. He put the hand back against her folds. "Go on, Emma. Consider it an equal exchange for the liberties you took while I slept."

Emma looked at him worried. "Are you upset?"

"No, Emma, I never mind your touch, whether I am asleep or awake." He leaned in and kissed her. "Darling my body belongs to you."

"Mine as well."

"I know." He didn't take his eyes off of Emma. Emma took a deep breath and moved her hand a little. A small back and forth touch, not pressing all the way in but teasing herself a little. "You flush so beautifully when aroused, darling. Your skin blooms." He kissed her cheek and smoothed her hair down. "More," he whispered.

Emma sank a finger into herself and arched up her hips. "Please?" she asked.

"Please what?"

"Your fingers feel better," she said. 

"Together then," Knightley said and pushed a finger in next to hers.

"Oh," she said. It felt strange, their skin touching each other inside her and she pulled her finger out to work the spot above. She moved her finger in small circles as Knightely pressed in and out of her. He was also rutting against her hip, his heavy morning erection leaking precome. They worked together, slow and soft in the quiet of the morning and soon Emma was gasping and her hips were rocking furiously on the bed. "Knightley," she begged. "Knightley, Knightley, Knightley." She tilted her head to him. "George," she whispered and soon she went rigid as the orgasm rolled over her, through her. 

Knightley stilled his fingers inside her, aching to feel that clenching around his cock, but this was her moment. She smiled at him and he kissed her nose, her jaw, her lips.

"Your turn," she whispered.

"I am sorry?" he asked.

"Let me watch you touch yourself." Emma smiled at him. "Please, darling."

Knightley couldn't deny her anything and rolled onto his back and wrapped his fingers around his cock. He cursed when she reached down and squeezed his balls. He moved his hand quickly and it was all over when Emma bit his nipple while she squeezed. He spilled all over his hand. Eventually he wiped it on the sheet and pulled Emma on top of himself. "This was a very pleasing way to wake up."

"Are you sure? I know you needed more sleep." Emma rested her chin on her hands on his chest. "I do not want to be a bother to you."

"Emma in this, please, I beg you - always be a bother to me. Until death do us part." He yawned. "But mayhap a little more sleep before we arise?"

Emma slid off his chest and curled into his side. She wrapped her arm around him, touching his body with hers as much as possible while being comfortable enough to sleep. "A little more sounds wonderful."


	4. Chapter 4

Emma read the letter from her husband again. He had been writing regularly while away on business, but she was thoroughly regretting not going with him. She had thought she had missed the quiet of all the alone time she used to have, but the space in their bed where Knightley should have been seemed to grow each night. Emma missed him dreadfully and at least he was suffering the same. But his latest letter promised no more than three days and he would be home and today was that day.

Her maid came in, when Emma was sitting in her window, reading the letter yet again. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, I would like a bath please," Emma said. "Mr. Knightley is due home today you know."

"Yes ma'am, we are aware and Cook is preparing a nice repast for you both." The maid smiled a little. "You still have a bit of that rose oil the sir gave you for your birthday, a few drops in the water?"

"That sounds perfect, thank you." Emma traced her fingers over where it said,  _my dearest I love you so_ , and then put the letter back in the box she kept all his correspondence in. She went to the bathing chamber which smelled fragrant and the tub was angled so she could see out the window, to the lane, to watch for Knightley. Emma dismissed the servant and put her nightgown on the chair and slid into the water. It was perfect, not too hot, and she could see the small drops of oil on the surface. She poked at them to make them spin and at first leaned forward to look out the window but there was no sign of her husband. Emma sighed and leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She supposed she would hear a horse well enough.

Emma let her hand drift in the water, move about the oil, occasionally touch her breast or between her legs but her heart wasn't in it. She wanted Knightley's fingers the surprise that always came with his touch.  She opened her eyes and looked out the window thinking she had heard something, but no one was there.

"Bugger it all," Emma muttered and sunk under the water. She heard the door open and thought it was the maid with more warm water. She opened her eyes under the water and looked up. She shot up, gasping. "Knightley!" The water stung at her eyes and she blinked. He wavered for a moment and she feared it was a dream but another blink and he was still there. "You are home!" Emma got a good look at him.. "And rather filthy," she said.

"I couldn't wait to see you," he said. He looked down at the breeches stained with mud, and knew his hair was a mess from the ride and his hat. "I can change," he said.

"I happen to have some very nice bath water here, good sir, allow me to attend to you?" Emma smiled at her husband and stood up. Knightley walked over with a drying sheet and held it for her. She stepped out of the water and allowed him to dry her, and he was very thorough. "Knightley, your water cools."

"Let it cool. I have missed you. Your skin, your eyes, your lips," he said. He kissed her and she pulled away.

"You have dust on your face, it would hardly do to have me so clean, and for you to ruin it."

"Oh but I want to ruin you Emma, desperately." He reached for her again and she stepped back and put on her robe. She went over and poured from a pitcher into a basin. "Wash your face, Knightley."

He nodded and went over and washed his face and hands. There was a knock on the door and Emma let the maids in and some of the water in the bath was exchanged, made hotter for the master's presence. The servants left quietly but they could both her the giggles once the door closed. Knightley took off his shirt and sat to take his boots off. "Let me attend to the rest," Emma said and he stood and she removed the rest of his clothes. 

Emma drew a flannel through the water and wrung it out. She went over and ran the cloth softly over his skin.

"What are you doing, Emma?"

"You don't want to go into that bath filthy do you?"

"Rather thought that the point of a bath was to get clean," he responded. He cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her but she lowered herself to her knees to wipe his legs.

"Well, if you want company in that water, I would prefer it to not be too filled with road muck."

Knightley looked down at her. "Company?"

"The second to last story in your book had a lakeside tryst. I thought the bath could work as a replacement." Emma finished wiping his toes and put the cloth on the counter. "If you like."

Knightley helped her stand. "Oh I like very much indeed," he promised and finally claimed a thorough and heated kiss. He then let go for a brief moment to slide into the water. "Lord that feels good."

Emma poured the pitcher over his hair and scrubbed with soap and then rinsed. "There, perfect."

"My looks could hardly be called such."

"I will not let you besmirch my favourite face," Emma warned. "I will be quite cross if you do not accept that you are the most handsome man in England. In the Empire itself."

"If I allow I fair well enough against the population of Hartfield will that content you?" He adored Emma's appreciation of him, though it nowhere could match his appreciation of her. He held out his hand.

"I suppose it will do sir," she said. She stripped down and took his hand. Emma settled into the water, her back to his front and leaned her head against his shoulder. The water reached almost to the edge but didn't tip over. Knightley wrapped his arms around her. "Oh but I have missed you," Emma whispered.

"And I you my dearest." Knightley held her tight and kissed her head. He began to move his hands up and down her arms and she shivered. "Cold?" he asked.

"No, just desperate for you," she said. "You kept me aching with some of your words in your letters, husband."

Knightley smiled into her hair. "Which ones?"

"You cannot expect me to say such things," she said.

"Why not?" He shifted his legs under the water and his semi hard length settled against her. Emma squirmed happy to have that against her again. "Tell me Emma which was your favourite?"

"What if some brigand had gone off with the post?" Emma said. "What if they misdirected the letter to Father?"

"You are delaying," he replied.

"I perhaps enjoyed the one where you talked about..." Emma's voice drifted off and she squirmed some more.

"Let me take a guess, with how you are reacting," he said. He covered her eyes with one hand and the other cupped her breast. Her gasp filled the room. "It was the one where I said I wanted to blindfold you, maybe even tie you to the bed, so that you would not know where my next touch or kiss was coming from. Would be soft, the barest feather of a touch?" He lightly drew his thumb over her nipple, watched her arch wanting more. "Or would be be hard, almost painful?" He pinched the same nipple as hard as he had ever dared go with her until now and was surprised at how much noise she made, how her squirming was splashing a little water over the side.

"Knightley," Emma begged.

He kissed her neck and sucked a little before biting her ear lobe. "Oh, my Emma, I missed your skin against mine."

"And I as well," she said. "Now touch me. In your letters you talked at length of pressing your fingers into me." 

"Of course, my dearest." He moved the hand covering her eyes and slid it down her body, letting the other keep playing with her breasts. The water and the arousal had brought a gorgeous flush to her pale skin. His fingers pressed low and teased at her entrance and Emma stilled. She was excited but this felt different. She knew she was wet but it felt a little odd in the water. Knightley pressed his fingers inside and it was close to great and she leaned into the touch. It wasn't as smooth as normal and when the pulled out to touch that most sensitive spot she shouted and not in pleasure.

Knightley immediately moved his hand Emma. "Emma did I press too strong?"

"It felt unpleasant," Emma admitted. She relaxed against him. "I suppose I am a little sensitive from the lack of touch in the fortnight you've been gone."

Knightley smiled. "You did not pleasure yourself?"

"Knightley!" Emma pretended to be astonished. "Not after the first couple nights. It is not fun without you watching."

"I promise to watch later," he said. "Ready?" Emma nodded and he touched again but she went tense. He sank his finger into her again and she liked that but when he drew it up to the spot she pushed his hand away.

"It feels wrong, the water is there, why isn't it making it the same?" Emma was aroused and frustrated.

"Stand and turn around," Knightley said and Emma did as he asked.

"I do not understand what you are - oh good lord above," Emma said and moaned as he licked at her. "That feels - oh my, more please?" Emma frowned when he leaned back in the water. "Sir, you cannot leave me in such a state." Emma put her hands on her hips and even tapped the foot in the water by his hip.

"The water stripped away what you naturally produce when aroused. Different textures and makes touch under the water uncomfortable for you," Knightley said putting the pieces together.

"The illicit story lied to me about the passion to be found under the water's surface?" Emma was scandalized.

Knightley laughed. "I fear so."

"Well then." Emma stepped out of the water and lay the drying sheet on the ground. She stretched out on it and looked at him. "Do you wish to continue with your bath or other activities?"

"Other activities," Knightley answered and was out of the tub so swiftly a third of the water ended up on the floor. He lay down on top of Emma and kissed her again and again, hungry devouring kisses that showed how much he had missed the taste of her. They didn't care about any more foreplay, Knightley lined himself up and pressed into her. Emma wrapped her legs around him and pressed up, determined to have him as in her as he would go. The ground was hard beneath her and Knightley's weight was heavy and it was perfect. He rocked his hips and Emma met every touch, every thrust demanding more. He rolled and put her on top so that he could touch her as she rode up and down.

Emma looked down at him. "Really, the most handsome in the Empire," she gasped as she felt that tingle that started low in her belly. She collapsed forward as the orgasm rolled through her. Knightley rocked his hips up a few more times and arched frozen as his own orgasm rolled through him. He slid out of Emma and tucker her against his side. 

Emma held him tightly. "I missed you."

"Me or my cock?" he teased.

"Well they rather go together don't they?" she asked. "Cannot have the you know without you." Emma looked up at him. "You are thinking something you do not want me to ask about."

"No indeed, I was just thinking about your radiant beauty in this moment."

"Tell me, Knightley, or else."

"Or else what dearest?"

"No chapter 6."

"They make toys, out of marble, wood, that you can insert as you would a cock," he explained. "And no I am not buying you one. Now shall we get up and enjoy a nap together? I rode very hard to return to you."

"And I rode very hard just now," she commented.

The dressed a bare minimum to go down the hall and crawled into bed, naked and held each other close.

As she drifted off, comforted by his heartbeat she whispered, "I will not let this topic die you know."

Knightley laughed ruefully. "Trust me, Emma, I am well aware of that fact."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this bit of fluff and sex. just a sweet little ending.

The men were in the library. It was a cold night, winter was soon going to be there. They were drinking and there had been talk of playing some cards, but mostly they were content with enjoying the fire. They were on their third brandy and Knightley decided to take his life into his hands. "Gentleman, I need your assistance on a matter of some delicacy," he said. This was especially awkward because his brother was sitting there, but the man did live in the city, he may know more people. "And needless to say this conversation will not be repeated."

"Of course, brother, we are happy to assist you."

"Yes, yes. We are all friends here," Mr. Churchill exclaimed. "A spat with Emma?" He leaned forward a little.

"You seem too eager for information of that nature, sir," Knightley said. He tolerated Churchill because Emma and Jane had been growing closer and closer, but still, it was difficult to forgive the way he had been when they first met.

"Only wanting the happiness of my dear friends of course," Churchill said.

Mr. Weston smiled. "What do you need Knightley?"

Knightley was quiet. "I...this is incredibly difficult to say."

"Spit it out, George," his brother said.

"Where might one procure an object of an illicit nature?" Knightley managed to say.

"Well I confiscated an incredibly crude book off of Jane, you are welcome to it," Churchill said.

"No, Emma gave that to her, she is done with it we don't really need it back," Knightley answered without thinking and everyone gave him a look. "Yes, well," he said and sipped more brandy. In for a penny, he decided. "You know how you have frank conversations with your wife and then topics come up and they do not let it go?" All the men nodded. "Well a month ago I made the mistake of mentioning that there were toys shaped like men that can be used for pleasure and well, she won't rest until she sees or has one."

"How does that even come up in conversation?" John asked.

"It is Emma?" Knightley said helplessly. "Months ago, in the spring, the women had a conversation that took a turn and since then things have been...interesting."

Mr. Weston nodded. "Things have changed as well for me since the spring."

"I have been the poorer for it, since then, now that I think about it," Churchill exclaimed.

"Well you are too quick on the draw," Knightley said a bit smug. He enjoyed the way Churchill went red. "At least that is my understanding. Perhaps Jane was reading to make things better but your reactions have caused her to turn away from you?" Churchill looked ready to argue and Knightely opened his mouth but John cut him off.

"It is a poor man, that fails to recognize when his wife's needs are not met," John said. "Has she tried to hint to you, but you dismissed because you were satisfied?" Churchill gave a grudging nod. "You aren't a bad man, Frank, but you are a little selfish. Listen to your wife and your rewards will be even greater."

Knightley did an internal shout at the way Frank had been humbled just a little.

"And you brother, if you are satisfying Emma so well, why is she so interested in such things?"

"Because she has boundless curiosity when it comes to love making," Knightley said. "And she is young and eager, and well...frankly you know how it can become difficult to keep up with them?"

"No," Churchill muttered and swallowed more brandy.

"We are well matched," was Mr. Weston's reply.

John laughed. "You see how many children I have."

Knightley nodded. "Her having such an implement would be to both our benefit and enjoyment."

"You imply Mrs. Knightley is...is a sex fiend," Churchill said. "No woman is."

Knightley smiled. "Emma remains as ever singular."

The conversation changed to other things and when the guests departed for the evening, John slipped his brother a piece of paper with a name and address that would be able to assist him.

*********************************************

"A gift, for what occasion?" Emma asked in the middle of their bed.

"For the occasion of your eternal curiosity," Knightley said. He sat behind her, pulled her between his legs. "And it never leaves this room," he said. He kissed her neck.

Emma carefully undid the ribbon and opened the box. "Oh," she said. She picked up the object. "It is heavy," she said. She stroked the dildo and Knightley couldn't help but shiver. "It doesn't quite look like you."

"No, it is more the general shape, than realistic." He gave her nape a few more kisses. "I have to say, the 'shop' where I procured the item was an education and no I am certainly not taking you there."

"But -"

"No, Emma," he said sternly. "I do have a list of their items for sale and we can discuss them."

"I suppose that will suffice." She kept stroking the toy and Knightley moved his hands to cup her breasts. 

"Would you like to use the object?" he asked.

Emma was tempted, it was so very intriguing. But she put it back in the box and turned in Knightley's lap. "Later, for now I want the real thing," she said and kissed him.

"I am ever yours to command," he whispered.

"Excellent," she said and pulled out a cravat from under her pillow and tied it over his eyes. "Your turn," she said.

Knightley was very sure Emma was going to kill him with her enthusiasm and equally sure that he would not regret a moment of it.


End file.
